


Mother's Love

by Jojo_Is_A_Hedgehog



Category: Call the Midwife
Genre: Coming Out, F/F, Gen, Parental Death, Rites of Passage, Teen Angst, chapel of rest, viewing the dead
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-12
Updated: 2019-09-02
Packaged: 2020-08-19 14:15:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20211118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jojo_Is_A_Hedgehog/pseuds/Jojo_Is_A_Hedgehog
Summary: Modern AU, circa 2000. Teenage Patsy has something she needs to tell her mum.Bear with the non-canon elements, all will become clear.





	1. Chapter 1

“Mummy? Can I talk to you?”

13 year-old Patience Elizabeth Mount leant against the doorframe of her mother’s music room in a manner she hoped would be read as nonchalant, despite the fact her vest top was sticking to her back and her palms were slick, and not because of the summer heat.

“Can it wait my darling?” Olivia mumbled around the pencil hanging out of her mouth, craning over the music score sprawling across the table. “If I can get a head start on this then we’ll have the whole weekend.”

The youngster let her head drop to her chest, the adrenalin rush dissipating to leave her jittery and tired. It had taken so much energy to get to this point. She’d spent at least five minutes standing outside the door just trying to knock. She squeezed her eyes shut, refusing to let the building tears escape, her throat swelling and only allowing the smallest voice to escape her mouth. “Ok.”

She turned and walked away, her own arms wrapping around her torso. Why did this have to be so hard? It wasn’t really such a big deal was it? She was hardly bringing dishonour on the family! 

“Patsy?” Her mother’s voice followed her down the corridor. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” Patsy was well aware of just how falsely bright her voice sounded right now, but she’d lost her nerve entirely. “It doesn’t matter.” And then her feet were moving, long gangly limbs carrying her through the house and up the stairs at speed and into her bedroom, the door closing harder than she meant to close it.

Simultaneously, Patsy wanted to throw herself down on her bed, and kick seven shades of something out of her desk chair. She settled instead for pacing furiously, stomping her foot every time she turned, her hand in her hair, clutching the strawberry blonde strands and tugging, while silently berating herself for being a coward. So consumed was she by her internal diatribe that she jumped in fright when her door opened a moment later. Her mother stood in the doorway, her posture tight and her eyebrows drawn down with concern.

“What are you doing?” Patsy shrieked. “What happened to ‘We knock in this house!”?”

Olivia raised her hands in supplication taking small, measured steps towards her daughter. “Patsy, darling, what’s wrong?”

Patsy threw her hands down against her sides, stopping short of stamping her foot. “Nothing!” she whined. “I said it was nothing!” The words flew from her mouth despite her brain screaming “Tell her! She’s right here! Get it over with!”

Her mum softly grasped Patsy’s hands, walking backwards so she could sit on the edge of the bed. Patsy remembered her doing this when she was younger so she could remain comfortably at Patsy’s eye level while the little girl got her thoughts straight. Only now Patsy towered over the seated woman while she tried to form her words.

“My darling,” her mother began earnestly while Patsy’s eyes wandered the ceiling, refusing to cry. “I’m sorry I asked you to wait. Whatever it is you need to tell me is clearly important. I’m ready to listen.”

Patsy was losing her battle against the building tears, a few escaping down her cheeks, but she’d be damned if she was going to let them overwhelm her. She closed her eyes and drew in the deepest breath she could, releasing it slowly, squeezing her mother’s hand when she heard the woman in front of her do the same. It was just 3 words. 3 little words. 3 words she used everyday, just not in this order. She just needed her brain to shut up long enough for her mouth to do the work.

“I…ummm…”

Come on Patience for heavens sake. 3 words. Come on.

“I…” She glanced down at her mother. Big mistake. The woman looked ready to cry herself. Oh god what if she disowned her for what she was about to tell her? Arghh why did she have to be like this?!

She tore her hands from her mother’s grasp and spun away, wiping furiously at the tears spilling down her face. “I can’t!”

The bed shifted behind her.

“Yes, you can sweetheart.” The voice was soft and warm, and Patsy desperately wanted to wrap herself safely in it, in her mum’s arms, to hear her say everything would be alright. Yet at the same time she wanted to be as far away from here as possible right now, terrified of the disappointment she might see in her eyes.

“No I can’t. I don’t want you to hate me,” Patsy whined against the sob rising in her throat.

“Patsy, listen to me.” Her mother’s hands on her shoulders gently urged her to turn around. “Whatever it is you need to tell me I will not hate you. You’re my little love.” She looked her up and down. “Or not-so-little love now.”

A finger under Patsy’s chin tilted her face up, her lower lip shaking as she risked pulling her gaze from her own shoes. She found a small smile waiting for her on her mother’s face.

“I will not hate you.”

Patsy hoped against hope that that was true. She pressed her head down against the woman’s shoulder, a tight high-pitched cry escaping her throat. She felt her long hair being stroked away and a cool hand settle on her neck, another stroking slowly up and down her back.

“Why did this have to happen to me?” Patsy mewled. “What did I do wrong?”

She felt her mother stiffen against her, the hand at her back slow and the one at her neck tighten.

“Tell me Patsy. Please.”

A sob was lodged in her throat, and it was making it really hard to catch her breath. She stood up straight, hoping better posture and a bit of space would help. It didn’t.

“I…I, I…I…” Her voice was rising in pitch with every sound she made. She was surprised the dog hadn’t come out of Grace’s room to investigate.  
She threw her hands down against her thighs and growled, only vaguely aware of her mum flinching back.

“I LIKE GIRLS!”

She dropped her head and held her breath, not ready to see the look in her mothers eyes.

Silence.

Of course she couldn’t bear it for long. She heaved in a breath, fresh tears clinging to the edges of her eyelids as she slowly looked up at her mother. The woman’s eyes were wide as saucers, a hand hovering in front of her mouth. They just stared at each other for what felt like an eternity. 

Then a huff of air escaped her mother’s mouth. And then another. Her eyes creased and a hand moved to clutch around her own waist as she bent double.

Patsy recoiled in horror, the tears cascading down her cheeks. Her mother hated her. She’d lied. She hated her. God what was she going to do?

She was so deep in her own head that she cried out when gentle arms wrapped around her. It took a moment for her to register that her mother wasn’t sobbing. She was laughing. Why was she laughing? What the hell was going on? She struggled against her mothers grip, suddenly angry, suddenly wanting no physical contact with someone who found her distress highly amusing.

“Patsy…”

When those arms tightened she shoved at her mother’s chest, slapping at her shoulders when she refused to release her, emitting small mortified shrieks as furious tears soaked her face.

“Patsy, please.” Her mother’s arms released, and for a moment Patsy believed she’d escaped and tried to step away, only to find her wrists captured and held tight.

“Patsy listen to me. I’m sorry.” Olivia’s voice erred on the stern side, something Patsy couldn’t quite blame her for. She’d raised both her daughters to behave in a lady-like manner no matter how emotional they got, and right now Patsy was behaving abominably. But it just hurt so much. “I swear to you Patsy, I wasn’t laughing at you.” She released one of Patsy’s hands to grasp the back of her neck and draw her closer. “I’m sorry. You were just getting so distressed I thought…” She released a faltering breath and shook her head. “…It doesn’t matter what I thought, just know I wasn’t laughing at you. I’m so sorry.”

All the fight left Patsy in a long drawn out keening moan as she collapsed against her mum’s solid frame.

“I’ve got you my darling.” The woman walked backwards, taking Patsy with her, retaking her seat on the edge of the bed and drawing the teenager onto her lap.

Patsy was definitely too big for this now. Rather than sitting she ended up laid across her mum’s legs so she could tuck her head under her chin, her legs folded up on the bed beside her. It wasn’t the most comfortable, but it was what she needed. Finally, she allowed herself to cry rather than fighting it, feeling safe, being gently rocked in her mother’s arms.

“Oh my little Valentine. It’ll be ok, I promise.”

Valentine. She hadn’t been called that in a while, maybe not since her mother dropped her off at boarding school for the first time when she was 11. It was her special nickname. Patsy was meant to have been born on February 14th so her parents had referred to her as Valentine in utero. Her sister had just been known as Bumpy. But of course Patsy had been over-eager to join the world and had made her grand entrance nearly 3 weeks early. Hence she was named Patience. She’d never lived up to her name. But hearing her old nickname always made her feel that little bit more loved.

“Oh my god you’re such a giant baby!”

“Gracey,” her mother warned the 8-year old red head stood in Patsy’s doorway, a white cloud of bichon frise wagging it’s tail beside her.

Patsy just burrowed further into their mother’s shoulder. This was the last thing she wanted to deal with. “Get out of my room Grace!”

“Im not in your room!” Grace crossed her arms and cocked a hip. “What are you crying about now? You kept me up ALLLLLLLL night with your boo-hoo-hoo-ing!”

God the girl was such a brat! Patsy sat up suddenly, nearly smacking her head against her mum’s chin, grabbed a cushion from the end of the bed and lobbed it at her sister. “I said get lost!”

“Both of you settle down please!” 

“I’m not doing anything!” Grace actually had the temerity to stamp her foot, the dog hopping sideways into the room to avoid the potential tantrum.

Patsy rose from the bed, spoiling for a fight now, her stomach twisting with rage, but her mum grabbed her wrist and pulled her unceremoniously back down onto the bed. Just one smack, that’s all she wanted to give her, just one good wallop and she’d feel so much better!

“I said settle down!” Her cool hand returned to the back of Patsy’s neck.

Patsy sighed, her stomach slowly uncoiling with the soothing touch of her mother’s skin.

“Grace, go and get your shoes please.”

“Why?”

“Because I said so.”

The little red head stomped away. She’d never lived up to her name either.

Patsy watched the small dog sitting in the doorway whining, gazing after Grace, but also glancing at Patsy, apparently aware she was upset. Eventually it crept towards Patsy, looking up at her with big brown eyes, placing one paw gently on her foot.

“Hello Callisto.” She reached down and lifted the dog into her lap, nuzzling the top of her head.

“I thought Grace named her Snowy?”

“Snowy’s a stupid name,” Patsy mumbled, half-heartedly trying to evade the dogs gentle kisses.

“Callisto? After the Greek nymph? Or after that warrior woman in that TV show you were watching the other day?”

Patsy shrugged, finding the dog’s collar suddenly absolutely fascinating and hoping the heat rushing up her neck wasn’t as obvious as it felt. Damn her fair skin.

Her mum’s eyes were boring into the side of her head. She heard the woman sigh. “Were you really that worried that you couldn’t sleep last night?”

Patsy shrugged again. She’d known her mother would have questions, she just had no idea how to answer them. Or if she wanted to. The dog licked her nose. It tickled.

“Worried about telling me?” her mother urged, rubbing her back gently. “Or that you might be a lesbian?”

Patsy tensed, accidentally squeezing the dog. “Mummmmmmm! Please don’t say that word!”

“Which one? Lesbian?”

The teenager slapped her hands over her ears, absolutely mortified. “LA LA LA LA…”

Her hands were tugged away from her head, and a hand on her cheek coaxed her to look at her mum.

“Why don’t you want me to say it my darling?” she asked softly.

“I don’t want anyone to say it!” Patsy whined. “It just sounds so…angry!”

Olivia sighed and pulled Patsy into her side, the dog whimpering as though in agreement. “Let me guess, the girls at school use it as an insult.”

Patsy nodded against her mother’s shoulder, remembering the last day of term when Catherine De Sousa had spat the word at Nina Rae during an argument. It felt like being slapped, even though it wasn’t directed at her. “Dyke too.”

Her mother shook her head above her, rubbing her cheek against her crown. “Some things never change I’m afraid Valentine. I’m sure it’s horrible hearing it used like that now, but one day, hopefully you’ll be proud to call yourself one. If, of course that’s what you turn out to be.”

“What do you mean?” Patsy’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Did her mother think she was making it up? Her back was starting to twinge and so she forced herself to sit up straight. As much as she wanted to be close to her mother right now she was resentful of the growth spurt she’d had in the spring, it was getting increasingly uncomfortable to cuddle up the way they used to.

Her mother shifted to face her, taking her hands gently. “Only that this might just be a phase you’ll grow out of, that you may yet find out your straight…”

Patsy’s guts suddenly twisted hard. So her mother was upset that she was this way. She didn’t want to have a lesbian daughter, and to be honest, why would she? 

Her distress must have shown plainly on her face because Olivia squeezed her hands tightly. “…I’m not saying that’s what I want or expect to happen darling. I couldn’t care less which way you swing…”

“Mum!” Patsy was starting to think she was going to spend most of this conversation mortified.

“All I’m saying is that you’re only 13, you’ve got plenty of time to figure it out, there’s no rush. Although just between us,” she leaned in closer, lowering her voice. “If you’re going to be anything, be bi, then you get to experience the best of both.” She winked at Patsy conspiratorially. 

Patsy just frowned back in response. “What does that mean?”

“It means that you can date both girls and guys.”

Patsy’s eyes widened, her top lip lifting in disgust.

Olivia laughed. “Or not.”

“Boys are yuck.” Patsy shuddered, her tongue hanging out.

Her mum chuckled again. “I did notice you weren’t swooning over Jolyon Warner Price like the other girls at the barbecue last week. I just assumed you were a late-bloomer.” She peered at Patsy. “Were you swooning over someone else?”

“NO!” Patsy cried indignantly. Her mother continued to watch her with raised questioning eyebrows. “I wasn’t!” She sighed. “It was mostly girls from my set there, they waste so much time and energy gushing over boys. It’s pathetic,” she spat.

“Do girls at school still practice kissing on each other?” Her mum asked gently.

“Yes,” Patsy replied morosely, her shoulders dropping.

“Do they ever practice on you?”

“Once. Not anymore, in case they work it out.”

“Is that how you found out?”

Patsy shrugged. 

Olivia stroked a strand of hair behind Patsy’s ear. “All right Valentine.” She kissed her temple. “Get your shoes on and meet me by the car.”

——————

The library wasn’t where Patsy had expected to end up. They’d left Grace in the kids section near the back of the building, and now as she and her mum moved through the space she could feel the quiet pressing in on her. “Mum what are we doing here?”

“Looking for some information,” her mum stated, glancing at a community notice board as they passed.

“But you’re not going near the books,” Patsy pointed out sullenly, looking around for some clue what her mother was up to. “Are you looking for the computers? I think they’re upstairs.”

“Oh my darling girl,” Olivia smiled indulgently. “There are more resources here than just books and computers. Ah-ha!”

Rounding yet another stack of shelves, the enquiry desk came into view, Patsy’s mum picking up the pace as she caught the eye of the librarian stood behind the desk. The woman was younger than Patsy expected, with short brown hair, baggy jeans, and a green chequered shirt over a black vest top.

“You guys all right there?” The woman asked softly.

“Good afternoon,” Patsy’s mum smiled. “I was hoping you might know about some local services. You see…” She wrapped an arm around her daughters shoulders and Patsy’s hackles raised. “…My daughter here has just come out.”

“Mum!” Patsy hissed, shoving her away. “What’s wrong with you?!

“It’s all right Patsy,” Olivia reached for her hand, but Patsy snatched it away. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

“That doesn’t mean you can tell the whole world!” She was so close to stamping her foot, so very very close.

Patsy was surprised by a hand on her shoulder, the librarian having seemingly magicked herself from behind the desk. 

“It’s ok. Patsy is it?”

Patsy side-eyed the woman before giving a small nod.

“Nice to meet you Patsy, I’m Val.” Val held her hand out and Patsy hesitated a moment but she shook it. “All right, now let’s get one thing straight. From here on out, you’re the only one who decides who you tell. Ok?

Patsy nodded.

Val smiled, then turned to Olivia. “Ok Mum?

A flicker of shame flash across her mother’s face as she nodded. “Of course. I’m sorry Patsy.”

“S’ok,” Patsy muttered, scuffing her toe against the carpet.

The librarian squeezed her shoulder. “Good. Now then, today is your lucky day, Patsy, Mum.”

“Olivia, please,” Patsy’s mum offered her hand, which Val dutifully shook.

“You see, I am actually an LGBT Youth counsellor, and I have something that might be just what you’re looking for.” The young woman dashed back to the desk and leant over it, rummaging for something.

To Patsy’s horror, her eyes were drawn instantly to the firm denim-clad backside. Heat surged up her neck and across her face and she forced herself to look away before the librarian turned around and caught her staring. If Val noticed that she closely resembled a tomato when she turned back around, she was gracious enough not to let on.

“Here,” she handed a trifold leaflet to Patsy. “I run a couple of LGBT youth groups. Every council should have something like this, but there wasn’t one in the area when I graduated from uni, so I set one up.”

Patsy frowned at the rainbow border on the leaflet’s front page. “LGBT?”

“Lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgender,” Val translated. “There’s a whole heap of other letters that can be added on as well, but put simply it means anyone who isn’t straight or of a traditional gender.”

“Oh. Right.”

“A lot to take in eh?” The librarian grinned.

“Kinda,” Patsy nodded.

“Don’t you worry,” Val wrapped her arm around Patsy. “The groups just a social thing mostly but we try to do some educating in each session as well. And we are all going to Thorpe Park in a couple of weeks, which you’d be more than welcome to join us for if you wanted. In the meantime, have a read of the leaflet, it’ll tell you about all the services we’re connected to if you need them, spend some time having a think on it all. And while you’re here…”

Patsy was surprised to find her hand being taken, and lead towards the shelves.

“…Shall we find you a good book? You’re a bit young for Sarah Waters yet, but there’s a couple of other titles we can start you off with.”

—————

Turns out trying to read with your 8-year old sister singing off-key in the back of the car, kicking your chair was surprisingly difficult.

“Grace I swear to God if you don’t stop I am going to smother you in your sleep!”

“Patsy?!” her mother cried from the drivers seat. “Do not talk to your sister like that!”

“She’s being a complete brat!” The teenager knew it was unbecoming to whine but she was beyond caring. She turned and glared at her sister. Grace just stuck out her tongue. Patsy narrowed her eyes and turned back around. 

There was a single solid kick to her mid back.

Olivia flung her arm across Patsy’s chest before she could retaliate. “Grace, leave your sister alone.”

Patsy watched the girl shrug in the wing mirror. One day she would actually get her own back.

“Patsy, I know you’ve had a stressful couple of days, but I’d appreciate it if you tried to keep your temper.”

“Sorry Mum,” she mumbled sullenly.

Olivia sighed. “I should probably write to your house matron, let her know what’s going on.”

“No!” Patsy’s head snapped round so fast she felt her neck protest. “Please Mum don’t tell Sister Ignacious!”

“I need to know you’ve got support love.” Her mother squeezed her knee. “If the other girls find out, there’s a chance some of them won’t be very nice to you. You need someone on your side.”

“But she’s a nun! They think it’s a sin, they’ll make me spend all my free time in the chapel!”

“Don’t be so dramatic.” Olivia laughed. “All right, what about one of those new younger teachers? Was it Miss Dolan and Miss Russell?”

Patsy cringed. No way did she want Miss Russell knowing about her…inclinations. That was the last thing she needed, for her crush to know what she was. “Maybe Miss Dolan,” she offered.

“All right then,” her mother nodded. “And what would you prefer to do about your father?”

The teenagers eyes widened. She’d completely forgot that she’d need to tell her father. “I don’t know,” Patsy frowned. “Does he…how do you think he’ll take it?”

Olivia took a long breath, the corner of her mouth twitching as she took a moment to think. “He won’t reject you if that’s what you’re worried about. It’s just your dad isn’t very good with surprises.” She glanced at her daughter before returning her eyes to the road. “Maybe I should tell him, just in case he gets a little…unpleasant.”

Patsy thought hard about her father. She’d always been a daddy’s girl while the family lived in Singapore. He’d never spoilt her, but they had been close. Too many people had said she took after him more than her mother, in character as well as looks. It had been very hard for them both when Olivia had moved back to England with the girls so that Patsy could attend school. Daily phone calls had quickly declined from once a day, to once a week when term started, now they were sporadic. Patsy understood that her father was a busy man, she’d spent enough time in his various offices around the world to know what his day-to-day was like, but it still stung, this distance.

“I feel like he might be more disappointed in me if I don’t tell him myself,” admitted Patsy, refusing to give in to the urge to fiddle with the leaflet in her lap. “I don’t want him to think I’m a coward.”

The cool comfort of her mother’s hand returned to her knee. “He won’t think you’re a coward Valentine. He loves you. We both do.”

Patsy grasped Olivia’s hand tightly in both of her own, holding onto her until she had to pull away to change gears.

“You’ve still got a few days until he gets back, if you change your mind just let me know.

The teen glanced up at her mum and was warmed by the soft smile on her face.

The lorry careening towards the drivers side barely registered in Patsy’s mind.


	2. Chapter 2

The redhead woke with such a start she found herself tumbling to the floor. Whimpering and disoriented, she backed herself against the nightstand, needing something solid behind her. Her stuttering, shallow breaths turned to heaving shudders as her brain caught back up. She was 33, not 13. She was in London, not Kent. She was a junior doctor, not a school pupil. And there on the bed was her fiancee, looking around confused by the sudden commotion, but still most likely asleep.

“It’s all right Deels,” she whispered, trying to calm her voice for a moment. “Just put your head back down.”

Delia nodded vacantly. “Ok.” Her head dropped to the pillow instantly.

Patsy pushed herself up onto unsteady legs and stumbled out the door, down the corridor and into the living room. She flung herself down on the sofa and released a howl into a throw cushion. She howled and she howled and she howled, so much pain choking up her throat and spilling from her eyes she thought she’d never stop. She was clutching the cushion so tightly that when it was grabbed she was hauled into a sitting position before her reflexes could release it, but then the cushion was gone, replaced by a solid body straddling her lap and holding her tight. She collapsed into her love, holding her breath to try and regain control of her diaphragm.

Disturbing Delia was the last thing she’d wanted to do. The tension coiled up inside her wasn’t dissipating but her trusty emotional walls were starting to slide into place as her breath settled.

The welshwoman in her lap was still warm and soft with sleep, Patsy’s favourite version of her lover. If she could snuggle with Delia like this all day she would. However, this version of Delia also happened to be very open to suggestion. One hand crept to the back of Delia’s neck, the fingers splaying through the hair at the base of her skull to massage her scalp. Delia whined in protest, but after several moments her arms began to slacken, her body growing heavier against Patsy’s. Just a few more minutes and she’d be out for the count, and then Patsy would lay them both down on the sofa. She might have a sore neck in the morning, but she secretly loved it when Delia slept on top of her. The simple intimacy of it, the closeness, could not be beaten. And she’d be assured Delia had had a good nights rest. 

“Nooo!” Delia sat bolt upright, dislodging Patsy’s hand. She shook her head. “Nice try Patience Mount,” she croaked.

“Deels please you need to sleep,” Patsy gazed into sleepy eyes as she raised both hands to the back of the welshwoman’s head, resting their foreheads together. “I can’t be the reason you’re not fully prepared for your assessment tomorrow.”

Her hands were batted away and the tip of a delicate finger placed on the end of her nose.

“I know what you’re trying to do, and it’s not going to work.” 

Usually Patsy found Authoritative Delia quite…stimulating, or at least amusing, but right now she wasn’t in the headspace to enjoy it. “Fine, well don’t blame me if you have to redo the whole course.”

She stood, unseating Delia and turned to walk away, but found herself hindered by a pair of arms locked around her waist attached to a dead weight. Delia’s legs wrapped around her hips as the redhead feel unceremoniously backwards on top of her.

“Don’t run away from me cariad, please.”

“Delia let me GO!” Patsy tried to push herself back up, but her petite partner was having none of it, so she flopped back down, dropping her head back against Delia’s shoulder and releasing a plaintive whine.

The smaller woman kissed her temple. “Tell me about your dream sweetheart.”

“I can’t remember it,” Patsy muttered, her eyes starting to sting with fresh tears.

“Don’t bullshit me Pats,” Delia requested softly against her ear.

Patsy smacked her hands down against the cushions, tears breaching their defences and spilling down her cheekbones into her hair. “Please don’t make me do this.”

Delia’s arms released their iron grip from her waist to wrap tenderly around her chest, gently rocking them both from side to side. “I know it hurts. But I’m here, you’re safe.”

Damn Delia Busby always knowing exactly what to say and how to say it because the dam broke then, Patsy’s lungs constricted by sobs. She placed a hand over her eyes, hating anyone seeing her cry, even Delia, and it didn’t matter that she was behind her.

“I want my mum,” she whimpered.

She felt Delia’s breath stop, and then shudder an exhale. “Oh Patsy.” She cradled Patsy’s head, planting kisses on her temple. “I’ve never heard you say that.”

Patsy held tight to the wrist resting against her chin. Crying in front of Delia still wasn’t comfortable for her, even after so many years. But she was starting to accept the fact that Delia held her when she cried because she loved her, because she wanted her to feel safe while she purged the overwhelming emotions. Unlike so many people in her past who held her in the hope she’d stop crying. The British truly are crap at dealing with emotions, their own or other peoples.

“I came out to her,” Patsy sniffled. “I was 13 I think, and she was still alive, and I told her.”

“Oh wow.” The welshwoman grasped her hand. “Did she react badly?”

“No she was fine. Embarrassing, but fine.”

Delia giggled. “Embarrassing should be in every parents job description. My da still has the bumper sticker in his shed.” She wriggled out from under Patsy, leaning against the back of the sofa, while the redhead rubbed at her face. “It sounds like it was a very nice dream.”

“I suppose it was.”

“So are these happy tears?” The brunette took her loves hand again, stroking her thumb across her knuckles. “Or are they because you miss your mum?”

Patsy took her hand in both of hers, playing with her fingertips and turning the platinum band lined with precious stones on her ring finger. “Partially the latter perhaps. But mostly…” every muscles in her body tensed, “…the crash…” She screwed her eyes shut and held her breath. She was not going to cry again. The noise and pressure in her head and the ghosts of pain in her arm, shoulder, neck and ribs were not going to consume her.  
The awareness of Delia’s fingers interlocking with her own helped to discourage the swamping sensations encroachment. “Patsy sweetheart, it’s ok, I’ve got you. Just breath for me now.”

She heaved in a breath. The creeping adrenaline was starting to do a number on her, so she levered herself out of the seat, flicking her hands to relieve the pins and needles. “Why won’t my brain let me have just the nice dreams for once?” she whined, tipping her head back.

“Because your psyche is a spiteful, self-sabotaging knob sometimes.”

“Isn’t that the truth,” the redhead huffed, crossing her arms and starting to slowly pace. “You know I always wondered how she would take it. Me being gay. I don’t think it would’ve really been a problem, she worked in the arts after all. I just…I always wanted to hear it from her that she was ok with it.”

Delia leant on her knees, resting her chin in her hand, watching Patsy with a wide open expression. “I think that’s understandable cariad. And now you have heard it from her.”

“Deels it was only a dream.”

The welshwoman shrugged. “So? You still heard her didn’t you?”

Patsy hesitated when her throat tightened again. Urghhh this was getting old now. But she nodded. “More clearly than I can remember.” She watched Delia’s brow furrow in question. “I…” Great, and now her eyes were starting to sting. “I can’t remember what she sounded like. Or even looked like. Not from my own memories anyway, only from photos and recordings.”

“Really? Nothing at all?”

The pacing woman shook her head. “Only the one time she really lost her temper with me when we were supposed to be packing to move back here from Singapore. And,” her diaphragm clenched as though she’d been punched as memory flooded over her. “…when my father took me to see her in the chapel of rest.” Her mouth tightened as she placed a hand over her eyes, hiding once again from Delia, but also unsuccessfully trying to block out the image that sprang unbidden behind her eyes.

She hadn’t wanted to go in there, into that room. As soon as the door had opened and she saw that waxy face she had changed her mind. Never mind saying goodbye, she did not want to be shut in that dark-panelled room with the church music and that…thing lying in the coffin. But her father’s hand on her already sore shoulder left her little choice. And so she stood against the wall, fingernails digging into the plaster cast on her arm, horrified as her father held the stiff pale hand, transfixed by the glimpse of a blue iris where the eyelids weren’t quite closed, watching and waiting for any hint of a twitch. Because even though it wasn’t her mum anymore, it still looked like her, and she wanted her to sit up and pull her into a cuddle, and tell her it would all be ok.

A squeak of surprise escaped her lips when a dainty hand pulled hers away from her face.

“Open your eyes Patsy, please.

Rather than do as commanded, she buried her face in Delia’s neck. “I want them back Deels.”

Delia’s warm hand cupped the back of her neck. “I know sweetheart, I know.”

“I want to know what our family should have been like!” Patsy stamped her foot. “I want to know what Grace could have become, if she would’ve always pissed me off. And I want to know if Mum and I would’ve become friends as I got older. And if father could’ve been more of a dad with her still around.”

The brunette stepped back and held Patsy’s head, pressing a kiss between her eyes. The redhead’s eyes opened to be met by the watery blues of her partner. “I wish there was someway I could give that to you annwyl.”

A question was chasing it’s own tail around Patsy’s brain, increasing in speed until it was forced up her throat with a sob. “Why did I have to ask to come home that half-term?!”

“No! Patsy, don’t!”

“If I’d just stayed at school they’d still be alive!” She tore herself away from Delia, throwing herself against the wall and sliding down to the floor. Her rage and self-loathing were welling up fast inside her and she was barely resisting the urge to smack her head back against the wall. Instead she wrapped clumps of hair around her fist and pulled hard. 

But Delia’s fingers quickly, gently interspersed with her own, releasing the pressure on her scalp. “Now you listen to me Patience Mount, that accident was not your fault!”

“I should’ve been stronger!” Patsy spat.

“Strength has nothing to do with it.” Delia teased the hair out of Patsy’s clenched fingers, kissed her knuckles and lay her hand in her lap. “You were 11 years old, a child, away from home for the first time, of course you wanted your mum to come and get you for the holiday.” She grasped the redhead’s chin, encouraging her face up so blue eyes met blue. “Now if that lorry driver had taken his required rest breaks instead of driving through, then yes, they probably would still be alive. You know this.”

Once again, Patsy collapsed into sobs, and once more Delia sat with her, pulling her down to curl up in her lap, stroking her hair and murmuring comforting words.

The sky outside was just beginning to brighten when Patsy finally sat up, rubbing the sore skin of her face. “Sorry Deels,” she croaked.

“Pats,” the welshwoman warned.

“I know I know, don’t apologise.” Patsy gently grasped the hand laying in her lap. “I don’t deserve you Busby,” she murmured.

“And you know what I’m going to say to that as well.”

A puff of air escaped Patsy’s nose that was almost a laugh. She kissed Delia’s hand and finally looked into tired eyes. “Thank you Delia.”

Delia smiled and leant forward for a sweet kiss. “I love you Patsy.”

The corners of Patsy’s mouth pulled up just a little. “I love you too.” She leant in for another kiss but was brought up short by a massive yawn from the smaller woman. “Come on, let’s get you to bed.”

“Why Patience Mount, how presumptuous of you!” Delia smirked.

Patsy rolled her eyes as she stood, groaning, her joints protesting their extended acquaintance with the floor. She offered her hand to her fiancee. “Come on then madam.”  
Delia grinned as she was hauled to her feet, and Patsy actually giggled when the smaller woman wrapped her arms around her waist from behind, tender warmth surging through her at the closeness as they waddled their way across the room to the hall. 

The redhead instinctually turned left towards the bedroom but found herself being re-directed right. “What are you doing?”

“We need to get some water down you cariad, you’re going to be horribly dehydrated by now.” 

Patsy whimpered in protest as she was guided towards the kitchen. She was shattered now and just wanted to go to bed! But when they reached the counter next to the sink Delia released her and landed a playful smack on Patsy’s arse. “Hey!” she protested.

“You love it really,” Delia smirked, filling a glass from the tap and handing it over with a kiss that sent a tingle down to Patsy’s toes. “Drink up sweetheart,” the welshwoman instructed, hopping up on the counter.

The taller woman sighed but lifted the glass to her lips. The water was more soothing to her parched throat than she expected, and she ended up downing the whole glass in one go. She glanced up to find Delia watching her with a knowing smile.

“Better?”

The redhead nodded.

Delia took the glass and refilled it. “Maybe take this one a bit slower.”

Sipping demurely from the glass, Patsy allowed herself a moment of introspection. She felt so much calmer, despite her exhaustion, but almost…hollow? Deflated? Or was it just lighter?

Cool dampness on her cheek startled her back to the real world.

“Sorry cariad,” Delia murmured, wiping a damp corner of tea towel beneath Patsy’s eyes. “Just thought I’d rinse off some of that salt, your cheeks must be so sore.”

Patsy caught her hand and kissed the palm. “They’ll be fine thanks to your healing touch.”

“Charmer,” Delia smiled, though she seemed to be examining Patsy. “So, where do you think this came from? Was it the visit to Val’s group?”

Mid-sip, Patsy’s eyes widened. “Oh Lord! Val was in my dream!”

Delia’s brow creased in confusion and amusement. “Really?”

“Yes,” Patsy laughed. “She told off my mum for outting me in the middle of the local library.”

“Yeah, that sounds like Val,” Delia chuckled.

Patsy allowed herself a moment to be amused, then took a deep breath. “In answer to your question, yes I think it’s safe to say it was the visit. Perhaps going on Parent and Teen night wasn’t the best idea.” 

“Or maybe it was just what you needed?” Delia put to her softly, stroking her foot up and down Patsy’s shin, providing a point of grounding contact.

“It wasn’t what you needed, me keeping you up all night,” Patsy directed to the floor.

“Stop fretting over that.”

Running a hand through her hair, Patsy tried to focus, to let go of the guilt of disturbing Delia, but also not to hide from all the other feelings. “I’m surprised actually, that it got to me so much, just seeing those kids doing things with their parents.”

“That’s understandable Pats. It’s something you missed out on, it’s all right to be envious.”

Patsy nodded. “Then seeing the parents group actually seeking advice on how to guide and support their children through things. I know I told my dad quite late, but I doubt he would have ever bothered with stuff like that.”

“You don’t know that sweetheart.” The smaller woman stroked a strand of hair behind Patsy’s ear. “Your dad’s always been a bit clueless about parenting, maybe if he’d just had a little guidance? Certainly sounds like something this service is good for.” 

Absently Patsy rolled the glass across her lips.

Delia rubbed a hand across Patsy’s shoulders. “What are you thinking cariad?”

“Just that…I didn’t realise I wanted Mum around when I came out. To talk to when I was still figuring things out.” She swirled the water in the glass, watching the vortex dissipate. “Miss Dolan did her best, but it wasn’t something she was prepared for, and at the end of the day it shouldn’t have been her problem. If I’d had Mum there, the entirety of my teen years would have been less rocky.”

Delia tugged the redhead round to rest between her knees, holding her close and kissing her temple. 

Patsy gladly snuggled in, slipping a hand under Delia’s t-shirt and enjoying the sensation of skin beneath her fingers while her mind pondered. “I think Mum would want me to prevent others going through that.”

The welshwoman sat back and looked her in the eye. “You’re going to recommend them to the board of trustees?

Patsy nodded. “I know the service is technically outside the foundations remit, but what they do is important. I’m pretty sure it saves lives, or at least makes life more bearable.”

A small smile spread across Delia’s face. “I think your mum would be very proud to support Val and her team. And she’d be proud of you.”

The redhead stiffened. “Deels…”

“I know I know.” Delia raised her hands in supplication. “You don’t like hearing it, but it’s true. She’d be very proud of you.”

Patsy didn’t have the energy to protest. “I want to ask the board for more than Val requested. I want her to be able to re-open the age 18+ groups. Kids aren’t the only ones that need this support.”

Delia’s small smile grew into a grin. “Nice deflection there Mount.”

Flicking her eyebrows smugly, Patsy lifted her head high. “I’m even thinking of connecting them with a counselling service. If the government won’t look after their own people, those of use how can, must.”

“All right there Crusader,” Delia giggled. “Think you can shut down that magnificent brain of yours long enough to get some sleep? We can hash out some more ideas tomorrow.” She glanced out of the window. “Or later actually!”

The taller woman followed her gaze and was shocked to see the sky stained red with the sunrise.

“Oh shit! Come on Busby.” She tugged her love forward and grabbed her arse to lift her off the counter. The brunette yelped in surprise and locked her ankles around Patsy’s waist. “Let’s get you to bed!”

**********

The hubbub from the garden made good background noise while Patsy examined the wall of photos in the lounge of the Antonia Keville Centre. So many smiley young faces, some doing crafts or dancing in this very room, others on outings around London, a few from Alton Towers, Chessington and Legoland. There was even one full of star-struck teenagers and a grinning Val with Sarah Waters’s arm around her shoulders. And underneath them all was a shiny silver plaque. It read “Proudly supported by the Olivia Mount Foundation”. Patsy kissed her fingers and pressed them to the engraved letters of her mother’s name.

“Patsy Mount I would kiss you if it wouldn’t get me knocked into next week by your soon-to-be wife!”

The redhead grinned as Val wrapped an arm around her shoulder and pulled her to the window.

“Just look at that.”

The pair gazed at the commotion outside on the green space behind the building. Teenagers, parents and volunteers milled around; Fred hovering over a barbecue, Tom umpiring a cricket match, Barbara and Trixie adding glitter gel to the facepaint of an excited 14 year old boy, Phyllis and Lucille teaching a small group to flamenco…the atmosphere was joyous.

“To think this was supposed to be our farewell barbecue. Now it’s a celebration. And it’s all thanks to you.”

“Don’t be so dramatic Val,” Patsy found a chip in the paint on the windowsill extremely interesting. “Just a few well-placed words, that’s all I did.”

“Ha! Few words my arse!” The short-haired brunette nudged Patsy with her shoulder. “I’m still gobsmacked that your belligerence not only saved our council funding, but increased it! And the LGBT bookclub at the library? Genius!”

“Couldn’t let these kids go without if there was something I could do about it.” Patsy let her eyes rest on her fiancee, sitting on a bench with 3 girls trying to teach them to cat’s cradle. The eldest of the girls was staring at Delia as though the sun shone from her face. “I think I’ve got competition there!” Patsy remarked, nodding to the huddle. “Not that I can blame her.”

“Oh that’s just Carly, she falls for every older queer woman she comes across, she’ll find someone else in a couple of weeks,” Val chuckled. She turned to face Patsy. “Seriously though Patsy, thank you so much. The extra counselling services are gonna make such a difference. And we’ll be rolling out the 4 new groups over the next couple of months. And it wouldn’t be possible without you and your mum.” 

Val pulled Patsy into a hug, and rather than just patting her friend’s back as Patsy would usually do, she surprised herself by holding Val tight in return, caught off-guard by the swell of emotion rising inside her. She was relieved that when they finally parted after almost a minute, there was no awkwardness between them, just Val continuing to grin at her.

“Come on Mount, Fred’s got a burger with your name on it out there.”

Patsy followed her friend out into the garden, where she made a beeline for the bench, stepping up behind Delia and squeezing her shoulders. The smile the smaller woman turned on her found itself answered by Patsy’s own as the redhead ignored the scowl from the teenager sat beside her fiancee.

Val arrived with a burger wrapped in a napkin, munching happily on her own. “Go on, get that down ya.”

Patsy contentedly took a bite, Delia reaching up to wipe a smudge of ketchup from the corner of her mouth.  
“By the way you two,” Val started around a mouthful of bread and meat. “Fancy a trip to Brighton? The extra council money means we can take the kids on a 3 night residential during half term, we’d love to have you with us?”

“Oh please!” Carly squealed, grabbing Delia’s hand, much to the welshwoman’s bemusement. “Please come with us Delia! It’ll be loads of fun!”

Patsy leaned into Val and muttered, “Only if our room is the opposite side of the building!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was only half way through this chapter I realised it was another dream fic! Although I started this one months before My What?!, I promise not to make a habit of these.
> 
> Oh, and is the crying Patsy thing getting too old and repetitive now? Feel like I've done it a lot already but it keeps turning up!

**Author's Note:**

> So my counsellor found a sore spot I didn't know existed earlier this year. And here I go projecting it onto poor Patsy again.
> 
> If I've gotten anything wrong then please give me a heads up.


End file.
